Looking Back
by Raofee
Summary: A collection of oneshots, featuring the onesided love of the Reborn girls. Ten years later, Ipin still cannot forget about Hibari; even in the darkest times, Chrome will forever remember Mukuro; through her love for Reborn, Bianchi has become strong
1. Looking Back: Ipin

A Katekyo Hitman Reborn One-shot Fanfic

Why am I doing an I-pin x Hibari fanfic? Very simply, I just saw episode 18, the Valentine's Day one, and was touched by the scene near the ending where I-pin gave Hibari her chocolate. In my opinion, they really could make a good couple if not for the age difference.

**Looking Back**

Every time she passed by the school, usually during deliveries, a distant memory would tug at her mind, as if begging to be remembered.

Ever since she quit the road of an assassin she considered herself a normal girl: going to school, studying, working part time at a ramen restaurant. She no longer had to fight, and that annoy broccoli monster, that Lambo, was gone for good – gone with the 10th boss of Vongola to Italy.

I-pin missed Tsuna a lot. Sometimes she still went to his house, never going inside, just standing across the street, catching a glimpse of Mrs. Sawada when she could.

Her memories in that house were precious – the man who always fell sick at the sight of Bianchi, the baseball maniac, Kyoko onee-san and Haru onee-san… And Bianchi onee-san who was just scary.

She wanted to deny it but she also missed Lambo, just a bit. His overconfident rants and childish antics had been replaced by the 'scratch', 'scratch' of pencils and strict academic agendas.

But there was someone she was forgetting, she knew. Every time she came to Tsuna's house she felt uneasy because of the shadow in her mind. Every time she stopped in front of Tsuna's old school she was drowned in an indescribable loneliness. So she dulled those sad emotions by busying herself with various tasks.

With time that memory was pushed farther and farther back, back into the chasm of her mind, back until she could hardly recall anything about that shadow anymore.

The loneliness stayed, and would not go away.

She wondered who that person was, who refused to be forgotten.

* * *

One day, while running a delivery, I-pin found herself suddenly standing at a foreign street corner. But no, it wasn't exactly foreign. The street was as it was ten years ago and standing beside her was Lambo. Not the young, obnoxious, stupid Lambo but the grown up Lambo who was much more mature but still stupid.

"Ah…it looks like my past self misused the bazooka again," murmured adult Lambo bemusedly.

"Ah!" gasped I-pin, "I have to make the delivery!"

And off she ran, though she didn't even know the directions. Past familiar yet strange streets, past people who were the younger versions of people she knew, past old structures that were gone in her time.

Again, she stopped before Tsuna's school. It was near dusk, and the school bell had rung perhaps minutes ago. Now students flooded through the gates, backpacks swung over their shoulders, chatting with a boy here, a girl there.

The school looked newer than it did from the time period she had just come from. But of course it did.

Then she saw him, leaning casually by the gate, arms crossed, gazing at the passing students like a hawk. Ever so collected, ever so alert.

And she remembered.

She remembered Hibari Kyoya.

She stared fixedly, heart beating faster and faster, the delivery temporary forgotten. She wanted to watch him more. She longed to speak to him. She yearned to listen to his voice!

Gingerly she stepped forward, a movement that Hibari easily noticed. And as he turned his head in her direction she froze, then started again.

As she slowly, slowly approached him, she caught his eyes and held the gaze, drowning in a sudden euphoria, a warmth that spread from her heart to the rest of her body and lit her on fire.

Tentatively, she reached out a hand, and despite his inquisitive and warning glance and the sudden tensing of his muscles, she kept reaching out. Just a few inches more.

One more inch.

His curious eyes never left hers, but I-pin thought he probably interpreted her action as an attack.

Half an inch.

Hibari of the past and I-pin of the future showed no signs of noticing the 10th boss of Vongola walk through the gates, nor did Tsuna and Gokudera and Yamamoto notice them.

Just a little more. A fraction –

A pink cloud surrounded I-pin. She was back in her own time, standing in front of the school with the delivery in hand.

Her five minutes was up. Love across time was not possible, thought I-pin sadly. She became tormented by a terrible pain stronger than any she had ever felt before.

Perhaps in the future, when she finished college, she could go visit the Vongola in Italy and maybe take up assassinations again, just to be able to work beside Hibari once more. In the near future, Lambo would probably misuse the bazooka again, and she could then look for the cloud ring bearer and watch him in wistful silence until he has to leave with Tsuna once more.

After all these years, I-pin finally remembered Hibari Kyoya.

This time she would not forget.

End.

Author's Note:

I-pin is awesome, and so is Hibari. Perhaps it's because I am Chinese myself that I like this character more than any other characters in the series.

Hopefully no grammar mistakes were made here. Review please!


	2. Looking Back: Chrome

**I'M BAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!**

After some months of absence of this site, I decided to begin writing fanfics again, and as the storyline of Reborn developed I became fonder and fonder of some of the really sweet boy/girl pairings...possible ones, anyway.

That took me to look at the...ahem..."one-shot" fanfic that I wrote a while back...and so decided to continue it, which means adding this installment, featuring Chrome.

Enjoy!

**Chrome Dokuro**

**Looking Back: Her Light, Her Darkness**

Faint white light, wrapped in the muskiness of dawn, fell through slivers of cracked glass, softly illuminating lustrous strands of purple hair. The left eye underneath those violet bans was shut peacefully. The eyepatch gradually slipped from her right eye, so that the exquisite scar was revealed to sunlight, as if welcoming the whiteness. The small nose, firmly set on a pale and beautiful face; the slightly parted lips beneath, delicately moving; the thin neck that looks as if it could be broken with one hand; the heart that beats serenely in her chest, beneath the treasured, murky-green uniform of Kokuyou Jr. High; and the organs under that, created from illusion…

Is she beautiful? Is she not the epitome of a living goddess?

Perhaps she is. Perhaps.

But to Chrome Dokuro, she is as she is because of _him_.

Her beauty was bestowed to her, by him, like a boon.

Her life, the power that enabled her to yet live and breathe the same air as him, was his.

And if anyone was a god, then it was he.

Rokudo Mukuro was her god. He was her god of light.

"Mukuro-sama," she murmured. The vacant, unlit room echoed her heart. She was not wanting, nor was she envious, nor jealous. Chrome Dokuro would forever be faithful to him, with a pure, unwavering loyalty that surpassed the bond between lovers.

"Mukuro-sama."

He had always rescued her in times of darkness and despair, when she thought her life was void of meaning. His voice was the moon that spread its silver hairs through boarded up doors and barred windows, shining through the forlorn depths of her soul.

Is that not what a god does?

"Mukuro-sama."

The gentle, comforting voice that pierced through the darkness when she lay heaving, sweating on the gym floor, when the Varia's arcobaleno was certain to kill her, it saved her. He saved her, a second time.

"Ore no kawaii Chrome."

He used his powers to the greatest extent and rescued her from certain death, so that she might see light again. Even though it was her weak and insignificant self who failed to defeat the enemy, she was still saved, and he was kind to her, his voice so soothing that she could see his smile, though they were countries apart, impossible to meet face to face.

"Mukuro-sama."

He was her light. He was her god.

"Mukuro-sama."

At the far end of the room a door squeaked and swung ajar. Ken's head poked through, sharp eyes searching the room like a predator. His gaze fell on Chrome, and he strolled toward her.

"Mukuro-sama."

"Oy, don't sit there like you are dead! Come eat something, it's noon already!"

Chrome glanced at Ken for two seconds before she closed her eyes again. In the hallway, Chikusa's slow yet deliberate steps carried him toward the room.

"Dokuro."

Chrome nodded. When he first introduced her to Ken and Chikusa, she never reacted to them, and afterwards she spoke and did nothing no matter what they said to her. It was just the way she interacted with people. No, at first, Ken just called her "woman" and "Mukuro-sama's substitute." It was only after _he_ scolded Ken that he started using her name and Chikusa began speaking to her.

"Dokuro."

The enticing fragrance of tea circled around her. Chikusa lowered a tray of food and a cup of tea. "If your body becomes ruined more than it is, Mukuro-sama will have to repair it for you again, Dokuro."

Chrome nodded, taking the luxuries Chikusa offered her.

"If you make Mukuro-sama use too much power for you," growled Ken, "I will kill you."

In the darkness, Chrome could not discern with what expression they stared at her. She clamped her teeth down on the spaghetti. In this room, only she knew nothing about Italian culture. She wanted to be closer to him, but learning Italian was just the start, it wasn't enough. She would learn to cook Italian dishes like Chikusa, and she would learn to play Italian games like Ken, not to replace them, but so that she could do more for him, with him, and if Chikusa and Ken ever fell sick then she could take up their duty. She never minded them treating her as a puppet, a mere substitute. It only made deeper her trust in them; trust that to them _he_ would always be absolute, that just like her they would never betray him, that, when she becomes of no more use to him, when she dies, they would bear her feelings and stay by _his_ side for eternity.

"Mukuro-sama." The meal was finished. To Chrome all food used to taste like sand, but in Chikusa's hands they came alive with flavors. They were colored by tingling pepper and mild chili, sour, sweet, salty, spicy – they were all of these, and so much more.

Ken blinked. "Did you say something, Dokuro?"

She closed her eyes again, once more shut into her own world. Shrugging, Ken left, followed by Chikusa, who gracefully took the tray into his hands and bid her to stand up slowly if she ever wished so, because after an entire morning of sitting in this dark room, she might become nauseated and pass out, especially with her body.

"Mukuro-sama."

She always felt so distant from the three of them. It was as if she constantly fell behind. Sometimes she became lonely, when her voice could not reach him, and Ken and Chikusa were both out. She was still human, after all.

"Mukuro-sama."

But in the end it always turned out fine. His presence, just to be able to see him, even if he was so far away, was fulfilling enough. Through the mists of wandering, isolation, and heartache, she always found him, his slender back, his pineapple hair that she so fondly copied, his very aura that looked and felt every way a god's presence should be experienced.

Just knowing that she was following in his footsteps was good enough for Chrome.

"Mukuro-sama."

The cat was alone, just like her. But a cat was beautiful and agile, she was unloved and ridiculed. When she saw the car, speeding down the road straight for the soaked creature in the rain, she thought, if it lives, it might find happiness and be wanted, if I live, I will only be engulfed by hate and spite.

And she made her choice.

"Mukuro-sama."

She must have died then, because she felt so warm, warmer than she ever was in all her life, soaked in a pool of ease and bliss that began from the soles of her feet and rose above her wild hair.

"You and I, maybe we are alike."

Suddenly faced with such beauty, she realized how unworthy she was. Yet that thought was but a flicker of shadow against the luminescent moon, because his presence was so calming and comforting, that it melted her, absorbed her, and for a transient moment her soul broke free of flesh and bone and was one with illusion.

"What is your name?"

"Nagi." She was awed by him.

"Do you want to come with me?"

"Nh." She thought he was an angel.

"Then from now on you are Chrome, Chrome Dokuro."

But she was wrong.

He was not an angel.

He was a god.

He was her light that drew her out of a world of misery and into the darkness.

"Dokuro." Chikusa and Ken were in the room again. "Has Mukuro-sama contacted you yet?"

"Not yet."

Faint gold light, embraced by the warmth of dusk, drifted through slivers of cracked glass, slowly illuminating two pairs of gentle eyes. Ken and Chikusa were agitated, Chrome could tell, yet whenever they thought of him their eyes could never bear tinges of anger. He was everything to them, to Chrome, too. And so they gazed upon her with rare tenderness.

She smiled, just an upturning of the elegant lips and the action was small enough that it escaped their notice.

"Mukuro-sama."

"What?" Chikusa and Ken bent down, peering at her face curiously.

She said nothing, resuming her statue-like posture. Yes, he steered her into the darkness, but at least in this darkness, her path is illuminated by three gentle lights.

Her family.

"Mukuro-sama."

Does Chrome know? Does she know?

Does she know that, in the evening light, she appeared to Chikusa and Ken's eyes an exquisite goddess?

Does she know that, in the deepest chamber of her heart, she is in love with Rokudo Mukuro?

Does she know that, in his watery prison, pained as he is, Rokudo Mukuro is smiling because he knows his Chrome is safe and cared for by Ken and Chikusa?

It doesn't matter.

Even to the end of the world, Chrome would forever follow her light.

**Author's Note**

Eh...scratches head

I'm actually kind of embarrassed...how was the fic? .>

Review please!


	3. Looking Back: Bianchi

**Back, back, back, back, back! Yes. I'm back! Hurray! throws confetti**

The Bianchi-Reborn relationship has held my attention for quite a while, and so it was irresistible to eventually write a fanfic for this pairing – and so here it is!

Enjoy!

(warning: may be a spoiler for those who haven't gotten to the Future Arc)

**Bianchi**

**Looking Back: All in the Name of Love**

"Bianchi nee-san, Bianchi nee-san!"

Leaning against a cold stone wall, concealed by the shadows of the alley, head drooping, Bianchi was on the verge of sleep.

"Bianchi nee-san!" Futa lightly shook her by the shoulders. "Ne, Bianchi-nee-san!"

Smiling warmly, yet wearily, Bianchi waved his hand away. "I know, Futa." She made a small yawn, as though to breathe away her fatigue. It was odd. She had never been so tired before. A reconnaissance mission was extremely dangerous and difficult, to be sure, but it differed little from the assassinations she carried out in the past, and besides, as a veteran member of the mafia, she should be used to the danger by now.

Then maybe it's because of Reborn.

"Are you really alright?" Futa looked dubious.

"Yes," Bianchi answered in her best mothering voice, as though calming a three-year-old child. But inside she couldn't reassure herself of that. Lately, everything she did had become more and more exhausting. Why?

A little thought nagged at her. It's Reborn, isn't it?

"Well then, let's go," said Futa, still with a trace of doubt. He peered cautiously into the streets, and then, turning his head suddenly, he spoke tentatively, "Bianchi nee-san, if it's too hard on you, let's just – "

"No." Bianchi glared. Did the boy just say what she thought he was going to say? That he thought she was too weak to go on? That he would rather have her stay where it is safe than moving about and risk the Millefiore's wrath? That she was – She checked herself. It was foolish to vent her frustration on Futa. If only Reborn was here! Oh, what she would give to see Reborn again!

But Reborn wasn't here.

Reborn wasn't here. She would never see him anymore. Never.

He was dead.

* * *

Romeo was dead. 

Romeo was killed in an accident five days ago. An accidental food poisoning, to be precise, and the keyword here is "accidental," period.

Despite the fact that he was her former lover, Bianchi was at the present very happy, and about the only thing she remembered about Romeo was the horrified face of his corpse as it lay in the coffin. Such a nice coffin. What a waste.

* * *

"Poison Scorpion?" 

Driven out of her reverie, Bianchi looked down and was shocked, but she quickly masked her surprise with a practiced smile. "How do you do, Reborn-san?"

The dress of her partner-in-crime was neat, with all the requirements of a member of the mafia, and that hat, what a hat! There was also an odd specimen of chameleon perched on his shoulder. A strange taste in pets, but nevertheless refreshing.

She held out her hand, or rather, held down her hand, and the Arcobaleno hitman shook it with more grace than she had ever seen in a gentleman ten times his size. "Ciaossu!" was the greeting.

"Well, Poison Scorpion-san, how do you propose we accomplish this mission?" He smirked, as though he already knew everything she would say.

She returned his smirk. She didn't want a partner. She didn't need one. She could singlehandedly kill the target and all his henchmen, but the man who hired her saw her as inferior, and would not have her do the job without a partner. Her pride was hurt, and she replied haughtily, "In style, of course."

"Ah," the Arcobaleno looked as if his predictions were confirmed, "Well, then, I will leave it up to you."

"You trust me with this job, Reborn-san?" Bianchi was puzzled. It was impossible. Never had a male partner ever suggested giving her so much freedom in carrying out an assassination. Those men were always trying to control her every move, tell her how she should kill the people, what was within her ability to do and what was not, as though they knew all the ins and outs of her strength.

He tipped up the brim of his hat. "Show me your skills."

Bianchi had heard about the Arcobaleno from her father, had expected to see an infant Mafioso, and yet nothing could have prepared her for the classy little gentleman that stood before her. He was so different from anyone she ever encountered. He took her breath away.

She smiled, a true smile this time. "Please, call me Bianchi."

It was love at first sight.

* * *

"Ne, Bianchi." 

Bianchi could feel the breath of the little Arcobaleno on her neck. After all, he was riding on her shoulder. "What is it, Reborn?"

"Our target is on the tenth floor."

"Seven floors left to go!" Bianchi replied sweetly, and kept running. Behind her, a dozen mafia men took aim and missed.

"Hmm, a bunch of idiots," said Reborn happily, glancing back at their pursuers, "all the more people I can use for target-practice." And he fired a mere two shots from his gun, bringing down half of their chasers.

"Oh, Reborn! You are so wonderful!" Bianchi exclaimed, just as she sent a giant plate of poison cooking crashing into the face of oncoming mafia men. She was gleeful, as gleeful as she could ever be. Never had she worked so well with a new partner on the first job. And this job was so, so – romantic! Reborn really did let her do whatever she wanted, trusting her so much as to ride on her shoulder and not even interfering in the job. A fire was burning in Bianchi. With each passing second, each gunshot, she fell deeper and deeper in love with him.

"Ne, Bianchi."

Bianchi turned, blushing, to look at the infant-sized hitman riding on her shoulder. "What is it, Reborn?"

"Duck."

And bullets flew over her head.

Bianchi laughed wildly in her heart. She loved Danger and loved Love.

* * *

It is important to never enrage a woman on issues concerning the safety of her lover. A woman worried about her beloved partner will do anything in the name of Love. Mental traumas, lost limbs, and death may be incurred from ignoring the above advice, especially when the woman is Bianchi and the lover is Reborn.'What about Romeo?' you ask? 

Who is that again?

* * *

"What do you mean he won't be returning for a long time?!?" Bianchi slammed her fist on the desk, scaring the new mafia recruit out of his wits. She was in the lobby of a Vongola family branch, and it was empty but for the two of them. 

"I, I, I, I, I'm so, sor, sorry!!!!!" His eyes fastened on the desk as a hissing noise arose. Where her hand hit, the wood was melting into a purple slush.

"But why?!? Is it a new assassination? Tell me who it is! I will go help him!" Bianchi was close to screaming. "Nothing can keep me away from my Reborn! Where has he gone?!?"

"That, that, that, but the boss told us not to – "

"The Ninth? Very well then, let me see him." Bianchi turned to go.

"You can't!" Terrified, the young man stood up and blocked her way.

"You want to die?" Bianchi growled, raising a plate of bubbling poison cooking menacingly. No one, absolutely no one, not even the Ninth, can stop her from finding her dear Reborn. So she seized the young man by the throat and held the poison an inch away from his nose. "Do you see this? Even touching this will burn the skin off your entire body in an hour, and then the poison will eat into your flesh, get into your organs, burn you from the outside in and inside out for six days before you die. You see this? You smell it? Well, would you like to taste it?"

"HE'S IN JAPAN! HE'S IN JAPAN!" the young man wailed finally, edging back as far as Bianchi's grip would allow.

"Japan?" Bianchi frowned, loosening her grip, "What for?"

"To, to, to train the Tenth." He was crying, and he had pissed in his pants.

Bianchi let him fall to the floor. Japan! The Tenth! At least when he went to train the successor of the Chiavorone Family, he was still in Europe, but now he has left the continent altogether, and to think that this "Tenth" might be every bit as incompetent and stupid as that brat Dino was!

Her brain composed the plan quickly. She had made her decision even before she entered the lobby. She would follow Reborn wherever he goes, even if it is to hell. So be it. To Japan she goes.

* * *

Bianchi had never really thought about whether Reborn returned her love. To her, it didn't even matter if he had any such feelings for her. It also didn't distraught her in the slightest that he had three or four other lovers. Things like that can be easily forgiven in a man, especially when Bianchi could kill any other woman who approached Reborn with such passionate feelings. 

It was enough for Bianchi that she had a place in Reborn's heart.

It was enough that she could partner up with him once a while in the most dangerous jobs.

It was enough that their love, though one-sided it may indeed be, play out with gunshots and explosions as the orchestra.

Bianchi had Love on her side.

* * *

Sawada Tsunayoshi had stolen her Reborn. 

At least, that was what Bianchi thought.

The successor to the Ninth was wasting Reborn's precious time and energy, time and energy Reborn might otherwise have spent going on a romantic walk with Bianchi. Bianchi was extremely jealous, not because she thought that the Sawada brat had taken Reborn's heart. No, it was because Reborn now most certainly thought more about the brat than he did Bianchi. The brat's place in Reborn's heart was probably greater than her place. She couldn't allow that. She won't!

A woman in love can become jealous at the most trivial of things, and when that woman is Bianchi, oh boy –

So she tried to kill Tsuna.

* * *

Japan was peaceful. 

Bianchi had never lived so peacefully as she did in the Sawada house. Everyday she could eat meals with Reborn, everyday she could see him, hear his babyish voice, and admire him in his various cosplay attires. And how handsome he was when he cosplayed!

She had only eyes for Reborn then, her love barring anyone else from her view. And so when Lambo forcefully moved her attention by stealing her food…well, let's just say that he learned who the demon queen was fairly quickly.

But Bianchi did gradually become fond of the kids. It was with Reborn's help, of course. Only because Reborn approved of them did Bianchi allow herself to show warm emotions toward them. There were Kyoko and Haru and I-pin. Lambo and Futa. Mama. Yamamoto Takeshi. Her little brother, Hayato. Tsuna. It was the first time she felt herself surrounded by so many people whom she could call friends and family, though she would never openly admit it.

Bianchi also fell in love with Japan.

* * *

So when Rokudo Mukuro declared war on Tsuna, Bianchi went forth to fight. But this time it wasn't just to be close to Reborn. She fought to protect Hayato, to help Tsuna, to restore peace to the ones she loved. The Bianchi before she met Reborn would never have even thought of this. Reborn changed her. Love changed her.

* * *

"Bianchi nee-san." 

"What?" Bianchi had dozed again. They were now hiding in a deserted warehouse, having successfully traveled ten miles closer to the base without being detected by the Millefiore. She knitted her brows as she observed Futa. He had certainly grown a lot over the past ten years, grown into a handsome young man, that is, it was almost a waste to make him the katekyo of that useless Lambo, but Reborn had made the suggestion, and that was enough for Bianchi's acquiescence.

Hayato, Tsuna, Yamamoto, I-pin, Haru, Kyoko had all grown up. Even that scary Hibari and that idiotic Sasagawa nii-san had grown up. Bianchi couldn't help but feel proud of them. They were all like younger siblings to her. And in watching their growth she had gained a bit more of the motherly tenderness and care.

"We are only a few minutes away from the base," Futa whispered to her, "once I make sure it's safe, let's go."

Bianchi nodded absently. Yes, they had all grown up. But then Reborn was robbed from her. Reborn. Killed. Dead! She would never dance with him in balls again. She would never eat in the Sawada house with him again. She would never be able to kiss him again. She would never dodge bullets with him again. She would never hear him say "Ciaossu" again. He was gone, out of her reach, forever.

Only the thought of protecting Hayato and the others prevented Bianchi's mind from collapsing entirely. Only her love for them!

And suddenly she realized: yes, she should stop being so weary all the time. She needed to become strong. She had to protect the younger ones. Looking at Futa's back as he stole stealthily to the door, she smiled. Yes, she must, MUST protect them. She could not let Reborn's death drag her down.

"Show me your skills," Reborn had said to her on the first day of their meeting. And she could not disappoint Reborn. She would not let herself disappoint Reborn.

"I will protect them," she vowed silently to herself.

And Bianchi stood up, her weariness eaten away by the new sensations that blazed throughout her body. Hayato and Yamamoto were in the base. Haru and Kyoko had probably been safely escorted there by Lambo and I-pin.

After Reborn's death. After Tsuna's death. They would finally be together again. And this time, Bianchi would be strong, surpassing herself as an assassin, surpassing her role as a big sister. She would be their protector, their comfort. She would be strong. The sorrow felt by a woman when she loses her lover sometimes strengthened her more than anything ever could. Bianchi would be strong despite her grief. She would be strong. For the children Reborn left to her charge, for the family she found in Japan, she would do everything and anything.

She murmured softly, lovingly, as though speaking to Reborn.

"All in the name of Love."

END

* * *

**Author's Note**

And so the fanfics keep on getting longer, and longer, I noticed. coughs

Bianchi's a pretty cool character: mature, beautiful, elegant, and has the feeling of the loving big sister written all over her, if only she wasn't the Poison Scorpion.

But when the storyline progressed into the Future Arc, it seemed as though she gained more of a motherly feeling about her? Am I the only person who sees that?

Oh well.

Review please! .

Thanks for reading!!


End file.
